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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23670685">A Song of Summer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Formula 1 RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AND FLOWERS, Butterflies, Help, I dont know how to tag, Introspection, M/M, Nature, Summer Vibes, and that is a fact, because we love that here, character studies i guess but like, just two boys in love, lots of imagery, no, road trip i guess, so all the good stuff really, summer time, these boys Complete each other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:22:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>808</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23670685</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Max and Dan think about what they mean to each other on a summer's day.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Song of Summer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello,<br/>I'm currently working on a multi chaptered thing (?) but I wanted to post again so<br/>Here is a fic about summer, butterflies, flowers, and Maxiel.<br/>Heavily inspired by Butterflies by Thomas Headon.<br/>go listen to it, it's a good song.<br/>anyway,<br/>I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dan looks over to Max.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tanned arms resting on the steering wheel, wind whipping gently at his curls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The car thrums calmly beneath him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Making music with the sweet gravel of this dusty road through country lanes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dan looks over at Max.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has his eyes closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Head tilted back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Capturing all the rays of the dappled afternoon sun, splayed laughing across his face. It flickers and dances, shade dipping and falling away to bright gold, before chasing back</span>
</p><p>
  <span> again in shades of glorious splodges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mouth curved into the subtlest mention of content.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>peaceful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>More than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max looks like he </span>
  <em>
    <span>belongs.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Like he belongs here, in the mid afternoon sun, amongst the green gold trees edging the road and the tall wild grass sprouting in tufts from furrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like he belongs in the yellow shade and blue black shadows of a countryside lazing in the glory of a pleasant afternoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like he was born to flit ceaselessly by bough and branch, between gravel track and open summer air suspended on wings, rising and falling like breathing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dan thinks in a past life, Max would’ve been a butterfly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drinking in the sun in cool bursts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Floating, swirling, drifting through the sky with wings that whisper a song of sleepy calm, busy unhurriedness, peaceful work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of joy, and light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of bubbling blue springs and grown green leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of sweet smells and enticing scents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A song of verdant life springing fresh from the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A song that swells in country lanes, the hum of a car beneath you, the warmth of the sun on your skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A song of summer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, when the song swells to its loudest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dan thinks he can see the outline of what Max was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All fragile wings and gentle beats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arching and delicate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Multi faceted, each panel jewel toned, glowing in the sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A stained glass window in nature’s cathedrals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shades of black and gold, red and blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hues that blended and meshed, shimmering, powdered by the paints of a heavenly hand. Framed in a body crafted by an absent god’s absent minded fingers. The colours of </span>
</p><p>
  <span>a world slipped into the lightest of packages, a glimpse of a world beyond folded into a breathing wisp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An ethereal afterthought that dances discarded on the breeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blessing a world that does not deserve to be blessed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dan thinks he’ll never get tired of looking at the colours that burst out from Max’s butterfly wings.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Max can see Dan looking at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dan does it often enough that it would be hard for Max to miss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if Dan was being as subtle as he thinks he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(he’s not)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that’s the thing. Dan isn’t subtle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(not by a long shot)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Max knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knows that when Dan looks at him, he sees colours, and light, and wings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knows Dan has him saved as butterfly on his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Max -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max thinks it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he has </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> seen Dan as a flower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As to which flower, he’s never been quite sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never been able to decide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some days, when he comes home to soft lit candles and long folding tablecloths and champagne in the novelty cups he got Dan as </span>
  <span>a joke gift last winter - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some days Dan is the beautiful curling rose, blushing pink and satin red, beating in time with two hearts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some nights, in moonlit evenings, when starshine pools on their bedsheets, when soft velvet voices drag against silk skin, and heaven seems so achingly </span>
  <em>
    <span>near</span>
  </em>
  <span> -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dan is an orchid, exotic, rare, unique, </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect </span>
  </em>
  <span>in all that he is and ever will be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In moments like those, he is so utterly, profoundly beautiful, Max is almost afraid to touch him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(almost)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dan can be bluebells, shy and arching, or lilies, proud and vainglorious, or cherry blossom, scattered and cheery, snowdrops, daisies, tulips, poppies -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the flower that Max thinks Dan is the most, the flower that contains his essence, his soul, the flower that irrevocably screams </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dan -</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Is the sunflower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sunflower, with large golden petals, and a head that always faces the sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sunflower, with its charming irregularities and imperfections, that compliment its beauty with such happy humility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sunflower, that brings light, and laughter and cheer wherever it goes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sees it in Dan’s blooming smile, so freely given out for the world to enjoy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sees it in Dan’s laugh, that blossoms out so readily at any given moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sees it in the curves of Dan’s tattoos, in the bounce of his curls, in the skip in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But most of all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sees it in Dan’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>soul.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Taken root in the centre of his being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How it shines out, in yellows and golds, petals shaking out, unfurling, stretching out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max is happy to be a butterfly, if Dan will be his flower.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>onehonoramongstthieves on tumblr <br/>I hope you enjoyed!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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